Summary of “Am I Going Blind?”

I had almost certainly experienced what is colloquially called “a stroke of the eye,” whereby the optic nerve is ravaged by a brief reduction of blood flow and thus oxygen. It would edit my right eye out of the equation so that my left eye could guide me on its own, leaving me with entirely serviceable vision. Worse, the “Stroke” revealed anatomical vulnerabilities that meant that my left eye was potentially in jeopardy, too, and there was no proven script for protecting it. The central vision in my right eye was compromised, in an unsubtle fashion. For the first month after my diagnosis, I’d catch myself absent-mindedly rubbing my eyes, as everyone does, and terror would sizzle through me. If the left eye were going to quit on me, it would probably do so then. In the middle of the night, when my bladder screamed, I hesitated before opening my eyes. Despite my eye disorder, I’m in clover: economic security; access to good health care; a durable relationship with a man whose face will delight me for as long as I’m able to gaze at it, after which his voice, which I also adore, will do.